


Wintertime in the Atlantic

by orphan_account



Series: Killing Eve + Hannibal Crossovers [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Crossover, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Will Graham, Established Villanelle/Eve Polastri, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Eve and Will are best friends, F/F, Food is Not People, Inaccurate cruise ship travel times, M/M, Married Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Murder Husbands, Murder Wives, POV Eve Polastri, POV Will Graham, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sassy Will Graham, Team Up, These relationships aren’t healthy but like? That kind of comes with the territory in these fandoms, Villanelle can’t cook to save her life, Weird Plot Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 15:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19088281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dear Hannibal and Will,[Eve warned me I really shouldn’t write Hannibal and Will but I don’t think you two are stupid enough to let other people read your mail and the consequences are on you if you are.]A recent client has gifted me four first class tickets for a cruise to Australia on the 11th of December! The ship leaves from Lisbon which is a wonderful coincidence since Eve tells me that’s where you’re currently living. We never got the opportunity to repay you two for helping us during our time of need back in Marseille. My fiancé and I would be delighted if you would accompany us. The tickets are attached!-xoxo VillanelleOr: Eve and Villanelle meet up with the Lecter-Graham’s once again.





	Wintertime in the Atlantic

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part two to Summertime in Marseille. You might be a little confused by some references if you haven’t read the previous work but I do not consider it absolutely necessary <3 
> 
> Sidenote: Most of this was written before the season two finale of Killing Eve aired so the gunshot would is completely ignored! [there’s a great crossover doc called The Professionals Part III that follows the canon timeline much more closely.]
> 
>  
> 
> It’s late where I am but I’m sure there are tons of mistakes to fix in the morning.

 

_Budapest Hungary_

 

Eve wakes in the morning to loud music and the pervasive smell of burning toast. She rolls unto Villanelle’s side of the bed, vacated recently enough that Eve can still smell her favorite lily of the valley scented shampoo. Eve pulls the blankets up to her chin and sighs. If she listens closely enough she knows she will hear Villanelle’s out of key voice crooning along to whatever obscure British pop star she’s chosen today. Soon she will join her girlfriend in the kitchen and they’ll find something halfway edible in Villanelle’s scorched array of breakfast choices. But she’s too comfortable in the warm embrace of their comforter to get up just yet.

 

It’s been about a year and a half since they’ve arrived in Budapest. The bedroom and its wall decorations show just how attached they’ve become to this cozy little apartment. From this angle Eve can only see Villanelle’s imported French vanity, the pink teakwood and stylish gold trim definitely Villanelle’s biggest influence on their bedroom.

 

It had originally been solely Villanelle’s bedroom. Eve had set herself up in the room across the hall back when they’d first moved in and Villanelle hadn’t protested, perfectly willing to give her the space and time she needed to adjust to their lifestyle. The last of her walls had fallen down, gradually and without much fanfare, and Eve had seen no more need for a bedroom apart.

 

She’d brought her little touches when she had moved in. First filling the bookshelf with her true crime novellas alongside Villanelle’s fashion magazines and later bringing baskets full of brightly colored yarn that she had been using to knit sweaters for winter since last spring. Now that the Hungarian winter was here they often spent lazy mornings sipping coffee in their matching oversized sweaters while watching the snowfall from the balcony.

 

Eve’s favorite part of the room are the polaroids attached to sections of the floral wallpaper with masking tape or push pins. Photos of Villanelle in the passion room of the De La Motte palace sticking her tongue out at a depiction of an angel. Another shows them in swimwear cuddled together alongside the edge of an outdoor pool at Széchenyi Spa, taken by a fawning tourist alongside snapshots from Eve’s recent birthday dinner. Her favorite though is of violet bralette clad Villanelle grinning into the camera with sleepy star filled eyes. It’s one of the first she’d taken, after finding the camera at her favorite local antique shop. It still hangs above their headboard. Perfectly preserved.

 

“Eve! Come for breakfast! I have toast.” Villanelle yells from the kitchen.

 

“Mmm I know! I can smell it.” She forces herself out of the warmth of bed and into the cold of the surrounding room, reminding herself to ask her girlfriend about adjusting the thermostat. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, lips still a little puffy from last night's activities. Her hair is loose, frizz floating around the back. Just the way Villanelle likes it. Eve tucks a strand behind her ear and goes to her.

 

The smell gets stronger as she walks down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. There she finds  Villanelle humming along to Lily Allen’s “ _Smile_ ” and scraping off the top layer of toast with a butcher’s knife.

 

“What are you doing?” Eve yawns.

 

“Salvaging this sourdough.” Villanelle sets down the toast and mimes throwing her knife at Eve who throws her hands up in mock terror.

 

“You’d think after so long you’d learn to turn down the heat on the toaster.” Eve frowns checks the expiration date on the jam Villanelle set out and throwing it away once she sees that it’s gone bad two weeks ago. “Expired.” Eve explains when Villanelle casts her a quizzical look.

 

“it’s just a suggestion. It was probably fine and now you’ve wasted it.” Villanelle pouts. Eve rolls her eyes and searches the fridge for a fresh jar of Univers apricot jam before settling on blackberry. “Oh Villanelle. What would you do without me.”

 

“Eat my jam as I please” The younger woman quips snatching the new jar from Eve’s hands and using the butcher knife to spread it along with an overzealous amount of margarine.

 

“Villanelle. Why don’t you ever just use a butter knife. That thing is way too large to be practical. And it’s probably unsanitary. Isn’t that the one you used on the Iranian bank investor last weekend?”

 

“Where’s the fun in that! Butter knives are for babies.”  Villanelle grins. “And no Eve. It’s not even from the same _set_. You really can’t tell my knives apart? I’m hurt!”

 

“Memorizing your knives really isn’t my top priority.” Eve shrugs.

 

“Hmm. I like when you play the oblivious housewife Eve. But I like it even more when you take an interest in what I do.”

 

She grabs a piece of toast from the platter and takes a bite, it’s burnt and undercooked at the same time which shouldn’t really be possible but Eve has learned that with Villanelle, anything is.

 

“I’m always interested in what you do.” Eve kisses her to prove her sincerity. Villanelle tastes like fresh blackberries.

 

“Can we sit on the balcony?” Villanelle asks once they break apart. “I made spiced cider.” She adds, as if Eve needs the incentive. She walks alone to the balcony while Villanelle fetches the cider sliding down into the vintage couch that took an eternity to carry up seven flights of stairs to the apartment. The view is gorgeous, their apartment overlooks a courtyard cafe beloved by the locals. If Eve looks beyond that she can see the steeple of a closeby cathedral, and the banks of the Danube. If she really squints. Today the square is silent, the usual hustle and bustle vanished in place of a sheet of sparking snow.

 

“I added some extra cinnamon.” Villanelle whispers into her ear before handing her the mug of cider. “Tell me what you think.”

 

Eve takes a sip and grins. “It’s perfect.” She praises.

 

“Just like you.” Villanelle curls up beside her reaching for her free hand.

 

“You’re oddly sentimental this morning.” Eve rests her head on Villanelle’s shoulder.

 

“I just want to remind you how much you mean to me.” She smirks. “Even if you do make fun of me for my jam habits.”

 

“It’s for your own good!” Eve jokes. “Can’t have you missing a job because you have food poisoning from expired spreading!”

 

“I’m already missing my job today.” Villanelle says offhandedly. Eve wonders if she means her work with the student activists her latest steady job as a waitress at a cafe or her _freelance_ work. It had been almost six months of living together in Budapest before Eve had returned from a late night out with friends from the University to find Villanelle strangling a stranger. Eve hadn’t been naive enough to convince herself that their life together would be devoid of Villanelle’s signature ultraviolence. She had only hoped that when the time came she would be courteous enough to warn her about the possibility of coming home mid murder.

 

They’d fought about it as Villanelle kept her gun carefully trained on the stranger, who was gasping for breath. She’d casually outlined her new strategy of seeking out hits on the internet with whispered assurances of protected ip addresses and surety of moral bankruptcy. Villanelle had been glad for the freedom to choose her victims but she’d been even more excited at the prospect of negotiating her own prices. And negotiate she had, telling Eve with an expression of childlike glee just how many Hungarian Forints she would make by offing the man kneeling beneath them. It was more than a bit awkward to have a conversation about family finances while an onlooker begged for his life but in the end Villanelle had finished her strangulation while Eve had sat on the kitchen countertop and finished a glass of wine. Afterwards Eve had helped Villanelle carry the body down the stairs supporting him between themselves like an extremely inebriated college student. They’d left him in a location specified by her buyers. Eve had never learned his name, though she had learned everything she could about the people who came after.

 

It was part of the deal she had struck with Villanelle in the dark after they had crawled into bed together that night. She would tell Eve when she wanted to take work. Eve would approve or deny it based on her own arbitrary requirements and Villanelle would tell her every detail of the plan beforehand. When she told Will Graham over a Skype call the next evening he’d nodded approvingly and congratulated her for putting her foot down and finding her balance. On the few occasions that Eve denied Villanelle’s request on base of moral standing or likeability of the victim or just because she didn’t feel right about it, she felt pretty damn powerful.

 

Sometimes she accompanied Villanelle to the murders standing in a dark corner and watching Villanelle do what she did best, offering small words of encouragement to both the victim and her partner. She was always a bystander. Watching even appreciating if the nature of the kill warranted it. But never participating. Mostly though she stayed at home making beef stroganoffs or chicken salad midnight dinners.  When Villanelle finished a job she was always incredibly hungry. On those nights Eve would wait anxiously by the front door rehashing every possible misstep in the plan and imagining the worst possible scenarios until Villanelle made her triumphant return. Sometimes the assassin was drenched in sweat and blood, other times perfectly clean. Whatever way she arrived Eve would throw herself into Villanelle’s arms kissing her face and holding her close until she was confident they were still safe.

 

“You had a job planned for today?” Eve asks raising an eyebrow.

 

“A shift at the cafe. I got it transferred.”

 

“You didn’t have to do that. I have class this afternoon so we can’t plan much of anything anyways.”

 

“You aren’t going to the University this afternoon.” Villanelle finishes off the last of her mug and lays it down beneath their feet picking up what Eve thinks must be a small piece of lint on the ground below them. It’s hard to tell. She really does need her glasses.

 

“And why is that?” Eve replies thoroughly confused.

 

“Because you’re going to spend today showering me with the love and affection I deserve after working up the courage to do this.” Villanelle tells her. “I wanted to give you this the very first morning after. But I couldn’t. I am not a person who is scared of much of anything Eve. But I have always been a little afraid of you.” She sighs clasping whatever was on the ground between her palms and sliding off the couch unto the floor.

 

“What is this? Eve grins as Villanelle shifts her weight to one knee.

 

“Eve. I love you in all the ways I know how. I think I’ve  loved you ever since I saw you and your gorgeous puffy hair in that _disgusting_ London hospital bathroom. You’ve given me more than I could have hoped for in this past year. And I want to give you something back for that. Something tangible.” Then she opens her hands and Eve sees that what her piece of shit excuse for eyes thought was a lint is actually an engagement ring, a beautiful one, gold band inset with an oval shaped diamond. “Will you marry me Eve?” Villanelle continues “Before you answer! Know that I bought this from my wages at the cafe. It isn’t blood money. If it had been I would have been able to give it to you much sooner.” She nervously babbles on about the ridiculous businessmen at the cafe who don’t tip her and the stupid little uniform they make the waitresses wear until Eve pulls her to her feet and presses a finger to her lips.

 

“Villanelle.”

 

“Yes Eve.” She answers her voice full of anxiety

 

“Please be quiet.”

 

“Of course Eve. I’m sorry if this-” Eve cuts her off with a gentle kiss reaching down to take the ring from her hands and slipping it onto her ring finger.

 

“It’s wonderful Villanelle.” She holds it up letting the sunlight bounce off the facets. “I’ll marry you. Gladly.”

 

_Lisbon Portugal, Ten days later_

 

Will opens his eyes to the soft swell of classical music and the faint aroma of cinnamon. Hannibal’s side of the bed is currently taken up by Brutus and Delilah both of which know very well that they’re not allowed in bed, but also that Will won’t punish them if they take the opportunity. Hannibal would have a kineption. Dogs in the bed are one of the only things he’s strict about. If Will shoos them off now and keeps quiet about it later Hannibal  might not find out. Then again his husband has quite the perceptive nose and Brutus, despite his small size and countless baths, has quite the persistent stink.

 

The clock on their nightstand  tells him it’s almost ten. Hannibal must have let him sleep in after their late night at the Opera. He’s thankful for his husbands kindness, they’d walked back from the theatre and gravely misjudged the distance. Will had been exhausted. He considers staying in bed knowing that if he does so long enough Hannibal will come bustling in with a tray of food to wake him up. The smell of whatever cooking is already so tantalizing that Will knows he’d just be torturing himself. And god knows he’s done enough of that.

 

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and lifts Brutus off the sheets wondering how on earth the tiny dog has managed to get up in the first place. Delilah looks up at him big Labrador eyes pleading until Will puts his hands on his hips and she gets the message launching herself off the bed in one bounding leap.

 

He pauses to throw on a T-shirt mindful of the couple they’re currently letting board with them but wishing for the comfortability of walking around half clothed that he found whenever he and Hannibal lived alone. A month after they’d arrived in Lisbon Hannibal had expressed interest in running a small bed and breakfast down by the docks and Will had obliged, knowing just how much Hannibal missed showing off his culinary talents on the regular. They had been very careful about vetting who got to make reservations keeping it strictly non Americans and restricting the amount of families who could stay at a time to three. So far they hadn’t run into any issues and though Will missed the free conversations that could happen when they were isolated it had been worth it to see the joy it brought Hannibal. Besides, they had only come to Lisbon for the extremely mild winter and would more than likely return to their home in France once spring rolled around.

 

Will finds Hannibal holding court in the kitchen proudly wearing the ridiculous _“Chop it like it’s hot_ ” lace apron Will had gotten him as a gag gift last Christmas.

 

“Guten morgen.” Will greets the German couple at the table, whose eyes are glued to the pastries Hannibal is currently frosting.

 

“Good morning my love.” Hannibal pauses his work to give Will a quick kiss. “I’m just finishing up cinnamon apple rose tartlets for the guests. There is muesli in the fridge if you would prefer that.”

 

“They look delicious. I’ll get the mail while we wait for the tartlets.” He decides.

 

“These take an unusual amount of preparation for a breakfast dish. I wouldn’t have been able to prepare them had I not have been woken up by the incessant barking of my husbands dog at four this morning. There was no way I was getting any more sleep after taking him to relieve himself so I decided I would come to the kitchen and make these instead. Anyways, two and a half hours is a small sacrifice for your enjoyment.” Will hears Hannibal explain as he heads toward the front door.

 

They’ve chosen to live within the city this time and Will enjoys the hustle and bustle of the neighborhood. The little flag on his mailbox is down and as he walks to collect it, a flower vendor he’s made friends with rings her bell as she rides by.

 

“É uma bela manhã Lisette!” He calls to her.

 

“Sim! Venha e visite a loja mais tarde!” She answers shaking a fist full of flowers.

 

The mailbox is almost empty, just a single manila envelope inside addressed to James and Quinn Almeida, the names the identities they’ve chosen for their time in Portugal. All their friends live within walking distance and it’s handwritten, too formal to be any sort of company looking for bills. There’s only two people that know where they are. _Eve and Villanelle._ Will has stayed in close contact with the former ever since the summer she’d come to his home in Marseille still filled to the brim with inner turmoil. He’d since watched her come into her own though definitely not in the same way that he had. Eve had told him she still preferred not to partake in her partners murders which was one of the few things they didn’t have in common. They had each other's phone numbers [filed under Stockholm syndrome support group which had made Hannibal laugh when he saw Will texting her one day] so it was more than a bit odd that she’d feel the need to mail a letter. He carried it inside to Hannibal laying it on the counter next to his pastry and stared at the envelope as he took a bite of the tartlet.

 

“Something came in the mail for us James.” Will tells him speaking quietly in English as the German couple gush over Hannibal’s cooking.

 

“Ah someone who appreciates the simple pleasure of sending letters! Shall we open it then?” Hannibal rests his head on Will shoulder reaching around him to tear open the envelope.

 

_Dear Hannibal and Will,_

 

_[Eve warned me I really shouldn’t write Hannibal and Will but I don’t think you two are stupid enough to let other people read your mail and the consequences are on you if you are.]_

 

_A recent client has gifted me four first class tickets for a cruise to Australia on the 11th of December! The ship leaves from Lisbon which is a wonderful coincidence since Eve tells me that’s where you’re currently living. We never got the opportunity to repay you two for helping us during our time of need back in Marseille. My fiancé and I would be delighted if you would accompany us. The tickets are attached!_

 

 - _ _xoxo Villanelle__

 

 

“A cruise in the Eastern Hemisphere.” Hannibal nods thoughtfully. “There isn’t much of a winter to escape here in Lisbon but there are still many worthwhile sights to see.”

 

“You’d lose your shit if we got to see something at the Sydney Operahouse.” Will teases.

 

“That I would dearest. That I would. Sydney is a popular cruise destination. I really can’t believe I haven’t taken you there yet! Loaning them the apartment in Budapest has certainly paid off.” Hannibal busies himself, happily storing the leftover pastries.

 

“So we’ll go then?” Will asks scarfing down the last of the tartlet.

 

“If you find it agreeable darling. I’ll only have to break a few hearts who were dying to try my cooking.” Hannibal jokes.  Their guests looks between the two men, clearly confused.

 

“You should go thank Eve for the invitation. I’ll explain the situation to the Meyers.” Hannibal offers and Will takes off upstairs snatching a second tartlet as he goes. He sits on the edge of his bed, where Delilah has climbed back on in his absence, and texts Eve.

 

_Will: Hannibal and I got your letter. Don’t think I missed the casual fiancé drop._

_Will: How could you not tell me!_

 

_Eve: I wanted too! The second she proposed! It was killing me not too, believe me. Villanelle insisted we send a letter. Said that Hannibal would appreciate it. Did he?_

 

_Will: He was ecstatic that someone “appreciated the simple pleasure of sending letters”_

 

_Eve: That sounds like him. Would you like to see my ring?_

 

_Will: Of course._

 

Eve sends him a picture, the gold band and white diamond look perfect on her slender hand.

 

_Will: It’s beautiful! What does the one you got her look like!_

 

_Eve: There’s the kicker. I haven’t gotten one yet. I’m waiting for the chance to buy her something big and shiny. She’ll want to show it off._

 

_Will: That sounds like her._

 

_Eve: So are you two coming to Australia? I know it’s a little short notice._

 

_Will: Are you kidding?_

_Will: Put our fake identifies under scrutiny and then trap ourselves in a ship for a week where there’s no way to escape if were recognized?_

_Will: sounds perfect!_

 

_Eve: I know it’s a little risky._

 

_Will: Oh it’s a lot risky._

_Will: I’m just not going to pass up the opportunity to see my favorite murder wives._

_Will: Especially not when you two are on your way to actually becoming wives!_

 

_Eve: WILL quit with the murder wives thing._

 

_Will: It’s never going to die Eve. Even if I stopped saying it you know Freddie’s going to milk every last penny out of it._

 

_Eve: Speaking of Freddie Lounds…. You better tell Hannibal that I’m taking the photos this time. I don’t want my engagement leaking on Tattlecrime._

 

_Will: No promises. But I’ll talk to him._

 

Four days later they are standing on the loading dock of the Jóia de Portugal drinking in the afternoon sunshine. Hannibal is wearing a wide brimmed sun hat and carrying a cookie tin full of leftover rose tarts. Will is dragging along the suitcases and scanning the crowd for any sign of the women. He’s about to text Eve when he spots Villanelle hurtling down the boardwalk at the speed of a freight train, Eve lagging behind with their suitcases. Hannibal raises an arm to wave and Villanelle careens into him nearly knocking them both to the floor.

 

“Good afternoon Villanelle.” Hannibal manages to say from inside her vice like hug.

 

“Look what Eve bought me!” She brags, letting go of Hannibal’s waist to model her engagement ring. Every bit as gaudy as Eve had promised.

 

“Will!” Eve pants as catches her breath, pausing to adjust the strap on her cherry red striped jumpsuit. He opens his arms and she gives him a quick hug, much less tentative then her greeting last time. Then again they know each other a lot better now.

 

“It’s good to see you.” He tells her when they break apart.

 

“You look great. “Much less scruffy.” She points to his hair which has been recently cut.

 

“Thanks Eve. I’m glad you like it.”

 

“We should get in the line to board.” She advises. “With these crowds it might take a while.”

 

“I’ve brought apple rose tartlets! They were a huge hit with our guests. Leftovers but I promise they have been well preserved. Would either of you like one?” Hannibal offers to the two women as they wait in line. Villanelle grabs the tin and takes two crushing the delicate apple petals between her teeth and sighing in an over the top display of admiration.

 

“You have to give me the recipe on these!” She begs. “Eve is getting more than a little tired of my burnt toast.” She explains.

 

“If you can not master a simple slice of bread I do not suggest you attempt a dish such as this one.”

Hannibal tells her curtly clearly miffed at the careless desecration of the pastry.

 

“What is that supposed to mean!” Villanelle finishes the second tart reaching her hand out to grab more. Hannibal slaps it away.

 

“Only that the dish takes perfectionism and patience. Both traits that you don’t have.” Eve answers and Will stifles a laugh.

 

“I could not have said it better myself Eve.” Hannibal holds out the one remaining tart that Villanelle hasn’t managed to engulf. “Would you like the last tart?” Will watches her stare hungrily at the tart before shaking her head.

 

“Tvoy zhenikh do sikh por ne ochen' lyubit menya.” Hannibal stage whispers to Villanelle. Wills Russian still isn’t great but he thinks he gets the gist.

 

“She doesn’t like to speak Russian.” Eve answers. “I like you just fine. Doesn’t mean I trust the food you offer.”

 

“You speak Russian?” Hannibal sounds surprised.

 

“I’m not fluent yet. Duolingo’s helping me get there.”

 

“And what might that be?”

 

“It’s an app that teaches languages! And it threatens you when you don’t complete your goals!” Villanelle answers.

 

“Ah. Technology can do many great things.” Hannibal smiles. “But back to the question of the food I have so thoughtfully brought for you. What human byproducts could I possibly sneak into tartlets!”

 

“Quite a lot actually.” Will laughs. “Hard white fat around the kidneys is used in a lot of pastries. There’s tallow in butter and margarine, lard in pie crusts.”

 

“You aren’t helping me build my case dearest.” Hannibal rolls his eyes. “Come now Eve. Do you think I have the time to churn my own butter or harvest and store such large quantities of fat?”

 

“You had your own home brewery didn’t you?” Villanelle interjects. “That must have been time consuming.”

 

“Well yes. I suppose I did.” Hannibal concedes. “Still I assure you these pastries are entirely normal. As I told you in Marseille I have re-evaluated the ethicality of consensual cannibalism among friends” That particular conversation dies as they approach the security checkpoint holding out their bags for the metal detector and their tickets for inspection. Checkpoints still make Will nervous, long as he’s been going through them they really shouldn’t.

 

Rationally he knows the guards are just trying to get through another tiring day of docking. These men are barely bothering to  look for weapons, let alone on the lookout for two pairs of serial killers on holiday. His heart stops pounding out of his chest a couple minutes after they’re aboard. The main atrium is so wide open Will almost believes they’re in a skyscraper instead of a cruise ship. Elevators zip up and down automated tracks and flocks of parents shepherd their children this way and that. The information desk is crowded. Wills expecting another long wait in line when a sharply dressed woman in a snappy business suit spots Villanelle and hurries over.

 

“Nicole and Emma Tóth.” She says, while holding out a hand to shake. It’s more of a statement than a question but Villanelle nods anyways. “And you must be the Almeidas.” She addresses Will and Hannibal. “My name is Esther. I’ve been sent to show you to your adjoined luxury suite. I will also be providing you with a number to reach me 24/7. I can answer any questions you may have about the cruise and its destinations!” The quad  follows Esther to an elevator. “So ask away!” She finishes, looking between the couples.

 

“What are the activities planned for this cruise?” Hannibal asks.

 

“Great question! In addition to round the clock available pools, five star restaurants, shops, a day spa, and wind sailing we also have a formal ball planned for tomorrow night from now. After that we’ll be docking the ship in Sydney and giving you the chance to explore all the wonders the city has to offer! Diving off the barrier reef is also a great option that you can choose to experience in the tail end of the voyage.”

 

“Thank you Esther. Everything sounds lovely.” Hannibal praises as the elevator reaches its destination. They walk along the spacious hallway to an unsuspecting door that opens into their suite.

 

“This suite is called The Lindeza.” Esther soes them inside. “It features a shared living and dining area but two lofts that include their own master bedrooms. I hope everything is-”

 

“This is fucking _amazing_!” Villanelle shrieks rushing past Esther and giving her best pirouette in the center of the well furnished living room.

 

 _“Villanelle_.” Eve shushes her. Will can tell his friend is embarrassed by her girlfriend's outburst but it’s nothing compared to the shocked expression on Esther's face.

 

“Well.” She laughs adjusting her name tag nervously. “I’m certainly glad you like it!” Esther leaves her card on the table as she goes and when Will picks it up he sees it is indeed a 24 on call number. He thinks about all the ways Villanelle could pass the time terrorizing Esther and slips it into his pocket for safekeeping.

 

They spend the afternoon catching up and sampling the cruise ships complimentary wine. The Jóia leaves the port just before sunset and they stand on the balcony that faces the back of the ship and watch Lisbon disappear into the distance. The couples go separate ways for dinner. Hannibal has been craving sushi while Villanelle is stubbornly insisting on trying a joint that promises that each and every one  of its menu items is based around melted cheese.

 

When they arrive at the restaurant Will and Hannibal walk to the back of and sit in a small booth, hands laced together across the table.

 

“This is quite nice dearest.” Hannibal says from behind the menu he is intently searching for Tuna Poke.

 

“It is.” Will agrees not sure if Hannibal’s talking about the extent of menu options or the cruise in general.

 

“I never expected to be able to live the kind of life where the love of my life and I took spontaneous cruises because of the kindness of a few good friends.”

 

“It’s like the plot of some B list horror comedy.” Will snorts. “A friend group of psychos on a tropical vacation.”

 

“And what an eccentric group we make!” Hannibal laughs, lowering his voice to make sure the tables around can’t catch wind of their conversation. “A lovesick former MI6 agent and a freelance Russian assassin spending time with a famed serial killer and his profiler husband. It’s a good mix I think. But still odd.”

 

“Most everything about our life together screams odd Hannibal.” Will points out.

 

“A good odd?” His husband presses.

 

“A beautiful odd.” Will reassures him leaning forward to bring their lips together.

 

“Did you think that Eve would make it to this point? You certainly gave her every opportunity to run back in Marseille.” Hannibal recalls.

 

“I wanted to give her the same chance that Jack and Bedelia and everyone else in my old life gave me.” Will shrugs. “Being repeatedly warned against something only makes you more secure in your choice, if it’s _truly_ what you want for yourself.”

 

“Very true!” Hannibal praises. “Perhaps I’ll make a psychiatrist out of you yet.”

 

“Not a chance.” Will vows.

 

Will and Hannibal end up splitting a bowl of Tuna Poke and a tray of Sashimi. They spend the rest of the evening drinking sweet sake and even though the food isn’t entirely authentic it still reminds Will of quiet evenings spent at their home in Kyoto, the first place they’d settled down after the fall.

 

It’s only once they’ve decided to call it an early night and head back to the the Lindeza that the peaceful evening is soured. As Will and Hannibal walk towards the exit a well dressed man walks into the restaurant followed closely by two young women. There’s no cause for alarm until the group pause beneath a chandelier. There in the light Will can see the slight tremor of one woman’s arms and the poorly concealed track marks on the other. Both women’s eyes are heavily lidded. And very bloodshot. In fact, to call them women at all is extremely generous. There’s no way either are older than their late teens.

 

“Šios moterys atrodo serga. ar ne?” Will asks reasonably confident none of them will know Lithuanian.  “seksualinės prekybos aukomis?”

 

“Yes I think so. I’ve heard of such problems on cruise lines.” Hannibal stares at the trio as they slide into the same booth the couple had  just vacated. The man looks up at just the wrong moment and for a second their eyes lock. _Busted._ Will thinks. Then Hannibal grabs his hand and pulls them outside.

 

“What are you doing! We need to report that.” Will pulls his hand away. “I know talking to security isn’t something we want to be doing and if you’re really worried we’ll call it in anonymously.”

 

Hannibal shakes his head. “Will. He’s taking these girls out for dinner. He’s probably self aware enough to know how the situation looks. Think about that for a second.”

 

“He’s got something over them.” Will realizes annoyed he didn’t come to the realization sooner. “Money or medicine or threats. They would assure security they were fine and vanish at the next port.” Will sighs.

 

“Exactly. You know I won’t let him get away love. The cruise ship is not exceptionally large. We will find him at one of the public events. Or seek out his cabin if necessary. You and I will assess the situation and if it all possible we _will_ do something about it.” Hannibal gives Will’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze as they walk on the windy path of the promenade.

 

The suite is empty when they get back, contents of Villanelle’s suitcase still strewn about the couch where she had been putting on a makeshift fashion show to decide what to wear to dinner. They take a shower quick shower together Hannibal looking appreciatively through the porthole that looks out over the water. It’s calming as always to have Hannibal pressed against his back under the hot spray. But it’s not enough to make him forget the caged look of the girls in the restaurant.

 

Later they walk to the loft drawing what seems like miles of billowing white curtains, that function in place of a door around the bedroom. Will stretches out on the comforter while Hannibal sits in the armchair continuing a sketch of Will and his dogs that he’s been working on since the evening before they left Lisbon. It’s peaceful. Still, the carefree mood of the earlier evening has waned. After a few minutes Hannibal sets down the drawing and sighs.

 

“Your mind won’t quiet mylimasis. Your thoughts are so loud they distract my work.”

 

“Sorry.” Will replies as Hannibal lays down next to him.

 

“Don’t be. We’ve long established your empathy is a gift and a curse. It is not often we catch bastards in the act and do nothing. I know not being able to step in immediately bothers you. And _you_ know that seeing you troubled troubles me.” Hannibal whispers as he pulls Will in closer.

Will rolls over so they are lying face to face before throwing his arms around Hannibal’s neck and closing his eyes. Neither says a word until Hannibal gently pushes Will’s arm away. He stands up and stretches, then starts to walk away.

 

“Are you leaving?” Will asks unnecessarily panicked.

 

“Just to turn off the lights Will.” Hannibal assures. “Only to turn off the lights.”

 

Will wakes in the middle of the night to the slam of the front door and the sound of raucous laughter. There’s a moment of confusion before he remembers Eve and Villanelle. Then he nuzzles back into Hannibal’s chest and sleeps until morning.

 

_Jóia De Portugal somewhere in the Atlantic_

_The next morning_

 

Eve grins at Will as the younger man comes down the stairs from his loft. She is sitting at the kitchen table while Hannibal is doing his best to teach her girlfriend how to make a simple omelet. Will’s the last one of them up which is a little strange considering Eve was pretty sure he’d been snoring when they’d stumbled in last night.

 

Eve and Villanelle had quite the evening. The fondue restaurant was a bit of a bust [Eve doesn’t know how _anyone_ could eat as much cheese as Villanelle had without becoming entirely lactose intolerant] but the bar they’d gone to afterwards had been amazing. Even the minor hangover she’d woken up to this morning couldn’t dampen her mood. They’d done shots with an adventurous old married couple from Spain and sang karaoke duets until two A.M. Eventually they walked back to the Lindeza talking about Will and Hannibal along the way.

 

“He has so many pet names for his husband!” Villanelle had laughed. “It’s adorable, why don’t we do that Eve?”

 

“Villanelle if you start calling me babe I’ll stab you again.” She deadpanned.

 

“How about pookie?” Villanelle pouted.

 

“How is that better!” Eve giggled.

 

She’d opened the door still roaring with laughter at Villanelle’s increasingly ridiculous suggestions of butterscotch, junebug, and angel hair. Villanelle had kissed her as she laughed pushing her back so hard against the door they’d accidentally slammed it. The loud sound had made them both freeze half expecting to see an irritated Hannibal appear from behind the curtains in the loft.

 

But no one had come so Eve grabbed Villanelle hand and dragged her up to the loft where they’d tumbled into bed together. Eve had pinned Villanelle to the mountain of pillows in a rare display of dominance and then leaned down to kiss her sweetly. Villanelle grins and laces her arms around Eve’s neck, hands tangling in her hair mouth opening to move with hers. Eve loses herself in the immediacy of their bodies moving together fingertips, lips, the starving press of their thighs. Heat and velvet and touch that Eve has grown accustomed to, touch that she relishes in just as much as the first time.

 

Now Will sits next to her frowning looking towards Villanelle and Hannibal antics but not really _seeing_.

 

“Will?” Eve prompts gently but he doesn’t answer, his mind off somewhere else. Eyes glassy. She wonders what he’s thinking about.

 

“Will?” She tries again.

 

“Sorry, what's up Eve?” He blinks a few times and turns to look at her.

 

“Are you ok?” She frowns.

 

“I don’t know. I will be. Once it’s dealt with.” He sighs. “Hannibal and I think we saw a human trafficker last night at dinner. He had..girls with him. Young ones. They were almost definitely being drugged.” He explains.

 

“Oh my god.” She whispers. “Are we in danger?”

 

Will laughs wryly. “Eve. You’re sharing a suite with your highly trained mercenary fiancé and two other killers. You’re probably the safest out of anyone on this ship.”

 

“Oh.” Eve looks over at Villanelle and Hannibal who are meticulously arranging sprigs of cilantro on their giant omelet. “Sometimes I forget.”

 

“Serial killers in domestic situations.” Will smiles. “Not something we thought about before all this huh?”

 

Eve shakes her head. “What are you two planning to do about him.”

 

“Hannibal and I talked about it a little last night.” Will shrugs. “He saw us looking I think, didn’t look threatened but you never really know. We need to find him again. Make contact. Gain his trust. And then dispose of it.”

 

“They’re having that gala tonight. In the ballroom. Do you think he’ll be there?” Eve wonders.

 

“Oh definitely. He’ll be looking for vulnerable girls. The ones traveling alone. It’s a good place to network. He’ll be dressed nicely, charming, generous. Women will let their guard down. People still see sex traffickers as the sleazy guy in a trenchcoat no matter what the statistics say.”

 

“You sure you’ll be ok?”

 

“Don’t worry about it Eve. Hannibal and I’ll take care of it. Enjoy your cruise. Anyways.  It looks like you two had a fun night.” He teases. Eve’s hands fly to her neck but the love bites are on her shoulder, only visible because of her spaghetti strap pajamas.

 

“Shut up.” She grins. And the conversation moves to lighter things but despite his advice she can still see the worry in his eyes.

 

“What’s the story morning glory.” Villanelle sing songs as she saunters over. She clears her throat and steps back holding out the plate of omelet like it’s a prized painting before launching into a monologue with a perfect Hannibal impression.

 

“Today’s breakfast will be a light _vegetarian_ omelet paired with the finest sautéed mushrooms, heirloom tomatoes, green onions, and cilantro garnish. We are also providing orange juice. With and without pulp depending on your personal preference.” She sets the omelet in front of Eve and takes a bow.

 

“Very nice Villanelle.” Hannibal smirks taking a seat next to Will.

 

“Hannibal helped me make it. I think I can replicate it at our kitchen in Budapest.” Villanelle brags. “No more burnt toast for our mornings. You need real fuel to get through your day!”

 

Eve picks up her fork and takes a bite sighing in approval. “This is...actually really good Villanelle.”

 

“It’s quail!” Hannibal reaches out his fork to tear off a piece. “I’ve always preferred the taste.”

 

“Hannibal when the hell did you put quail eggs in our luggage!” Will shoves him playfully.

 

“They were in _my_ personal bag actually. ” Hannibal corrects. “I wasn’t sure what the egg quality would be here. I was only trying to be prudent.”

 

“When packing for a cruise one of the things at the forefront of your brain was _egg quality_?” Will rolls his eyes.

 

“Yes! And I’m glad that it was. They were useful in teaching our dear friend how to be a proper housewife.”

 

“Eve’s the housewife!” Villanelle says through a mouth of omelet. “Always sitting around knitting sweaters and waiting for me by the front door when I get home from a job.”

 

“You knit Eve?” Hannibal asks excitedly. “I’ve taken up the hobby as well. Although I wouldn’t be caught dead in my creations thus far Will is more than glad to model them.” Eve smiles politely and turns back to her food.

 

“Your attempt to bond with my fiancé isn’t subtle. And it isn’t _working_.” Villanelle stage whispers.

 

“There is still time to win her over.” Hannibal jokes. “Villanelle what is our plan for the day?”

 

“Eve and I saw the day spa Esther mentioned when we were walking to dinner last night. They have European facials, hot stone massages and an on site esthetician.” Villanelle sighs longingly. “Only _Eve_ said she didn’t want to go with me.”

 

“I love hot stone massages! And a consultation with an esthetician is not something I get to do regularly.” Hannibal muses.

 

“Come with me!” Villanelle bounces excitedly. “We’ll look our best for the gala!” She adds.

 

“Will would you like to tag along?”

 

“Nope. You two can go have your vanity fest. I feel like staying in the suite today.”

 

“Eve. Last chance.” Villanelle stands up and comes around behind Eve’s chair pressing her lips to her cheek.

 

“I’ll stay with Will. We need time alone to complain about you two.” Eve jokes.

 

“Hmm. Well your pores will not thank you. but suit yourself!” Villanelle shrugs. “Now I just need to find my wallet.”

 

Will and Eve spent most of the morning in the suite only emerging to buy a shitload of junk food from the cruises convenience store. They sit on the couch and Eve shovels extra buttery popcorn while Will flips through the movie options on the ridiculously wide living rooms flatscreen. [Something else she supposes her pores will not thank her for] They settle on the original Friday the 13th, which is not nearly as unnerving as she remembers. Eve starts to check out sometime after Marcie Stanler takes an axe to the face. Will wasn’t at all invested to begin with. She supposes after you’ve lived the plot of one slasher films aren’t all that interesting.

 

“Are you going to stay in Budapest forever?” Will asks her long after the movie fades to background noise.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It feels like home.” Will nods thoughtfully.

 

“Do you think you’ll _ever_ stay in one place?” Eve asks shifting to gain better access to the few remaining pieces of popcorn.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe once we’re both older. Variety is the spice of life and I enjoy traveling. I don’t know if Hannibal could live without it. He’s always enjoyed taking me places, showing me wonders.” Will grins. “It’s gotten a little bit harder every time we move though.”

 

“And why’s that?”

 

“There’s always more dogs.”

 

“More than in Marseille!” Eve looks at him aghast as she starts on the unpopped kernels.

 

“Yes it’s definitely a pack-” Will pauses. “Wait a second. Eve are you eating the kernels?”

 

“Yeah why.” She mumbles picking up another one. “Want one?”

 

“Hell no! Maybe you are just as psycho as the rest of us.”

 

“Do you think you’ll ever have children?” Eve licks the butter from the bowl. “Or is your family already complete with the army of canines.”

 

“The second one.” Will smiles, a touch of sadness in the corner of his eyes. “One daughter was enough.”

 

“Abigail Hobbes?”

 

Will nods “She’s still with us in some ways. Of course I’ve forgiven Hannibal. _Long_ ago. But I couldn’t face going through something like that again. Hannibal and I are meant for each other. _Only_ for each other. How about you?” Eve thinks for a second quietly wondering why she asked if she didn’t want to face the same question in return.

 

“Maybe” She finally speaks. “Not now obviously. Villanelle is too immature for that. I don’t think she always will be though. People grow. People change. I certainly did. Can you imagine it Will? A child running around the apartment with hair like mine and wit like hers. They’d be unstoppable.” Eve laughs. “She’d have to carry the baby. And with the life she leads I have to say that worries me. So does bringing a child into a life like we have....”

 

“Taking nine months off cruising the dark web for vulnerable billionaires won't kill her. You’d be a great mother Eve. I hope we’ll still be friends then.” He answers. “I want to meet them.”

 

“I hope we’ll always be friends.” She smiles reaching out to squeeze his hand.

 

They talk about their old lives. The conversation strays to ex spouses and Eve’s surprised she doesn’t feel the sharp pang she had when she’d first come to Marseille when she says his name. Will and Eve agree. Molly and Niko feel like ghosts of a previous life. Good memories and wonderful companions. But far from compatible to the happiness they had found now. And she’s surprisingly ok with that.

 

Villanelle and Hannibal return an hour before the gala is set to begin arms laden with skin products from what Villanelle will describe later as a _very_ pushy esthetician.

 

They dress quickly, swerving around each other in the master bedroom, Villanelle in a pleasingly low cut pink chiffon bodycon dress and Eve in a sea green pantsuit paired with a set of Villanelle’s chunky gold earrings. They do their makeup almost as fast crowded in front of the bathroom mirror teasing up Villanelle’s hair into a messy bun and painting Eve’s eyelids golden. The couple walk downstairs together Villanelle clutching Eve’s arm as she trails her fingers along the banister.

 

“Tout simplement magnifique!” Hannibal exclaims and Will nods his agreement. The men are also formally dressed Hannibal in a grey checkered suit Will in black.

 

“Shall we?” Hannibal offers his husband his arm and then they start on their way.

 

The grand ballroom of the Jóia is decked to the nines with streamers of all different colors littering the and a dance floor bathed in gentle golden light. A band sits on the ornately embellished stage playing instrumental Portuguese classics as waiters in white tuxes and waitresses in puffy white skirts circle the room with trays full of refreshments. The quad makes their way to the dance floor ducking around the other couples and occasional single on the prowl. Villanelle’s hands sway to the soft swell of the music and she wraps an arm around Eve’s waist and pulls her in close enough to whisper.

 

“This is magical.”

 

Eve and Villanelle dance together, a mix of stomped toes and unsteady legs,  not nearly as graceful as Hannibal and Will’s more practiced routine that continues next to them. But with just as much emotion. The couples switch partners once, during a fast paced romp of a song and Will twirls her around laughing at the way her permed curls tangle around her face. A while after they switch back Eve looks over and both men are gone. She wonders idly, if they’ve spotted the man from dinner before turning back to Villanelle as carefree as she’s ever been.

 

Soon even Villanelle leaves her to her own devices. running off to the bathroom to fix the lipstick Eve has smeared all over her chin and promising to come back with as many cocktail shrimp as she can carry. Before she does a tiny waitress taps her on the shoulder, plump face revealing dimples as she smiles holding out a tray with a singular Shirley Temple resting in the middle.

 

“Excuse me miss. This was ordered for you.” Eve takes a long sip looking around for Villanelle, who knows she’s always had a soft spot for the beverage. It’s sweeter than the ones she usually drinks though not unpleasant. Instead her eyes find those of an semi attractive man waving from across the dance floor. He walks to her hands tucked into the pockets of his dress slacks.

 

“I hope you enjoy those.” He points to her drink which now sits frozen at her lips. “Forgive me. I saw you from across the room and thought you were too gorgeous to go thirsty.” The man tells her in a thick cockney accent.

 

“I appreciate your compliment. But I’m...committed. And my fiancé doesn’t take kindly to men who hit on me.” She warns. “I’m sorry you wasted your money on this, please have it back.” She insists holding the half finished drink out to him.

 

“Oh I know.” He sighs. “I _want_ her to come talk to me.” He smirks. As if on cue Villanelle emerges from the crowd looking around for Eve and finding her far away from where she’d left her.

 

“Who’s this?” Villanelle says voice ice cold and tight.

 

“This is my fiancé Nicole Tóth. We are traveling from Hungary.” Eve tells the stranger sugary voice overcompensating for Villanelle’s frosty tone.

 

“No you aren’t.” He shakes his head pityingly. “I mean you may be traveling from Hungary but you’re Oksana Astankova and Eve Polastri.” He grins, mouth sickeningly wide. He leans in so close Eve can smell the liquor on his breath.

 

“She isn’t a Polastri.” Villanelle snorts. “Not anymore.”

 

“I want money.” He blurts without any prompting. “And information. A chance to talk with the famed Villanelle.” He pauses as if debating his next words. “I definitely want a roll in the hay with you.” He points to Villanelle before pulling one hand out of his pocket revealing a comically small bladed pocket knife. Eve almost laughs. Villanelle would have already wanted to kill him just for flirting with Eve. Now she’ll make him suffer.

 

“And why the hell would I give a _prick_ like you ant of those things?” Villanelle snorts. “Don’t tell me you’ll _hurt_ me if I don’t. Your weapon is little more than a letter opener.” Eve tries to focus on her fiancés joking tone but her head is swimming.

 

“You’ll give me everything I ask for otherwise your little muff diver will die before morning.” He leers. “Dumb cunt already downed half of her Shirley Temple. I drugged it.” He pats his other pocket proudly. “I’ve got the antidote right here. Only I won’t give it to her unless you give me everything. And I mean _everything”_ His eyes follow the line of Villanelle’s cleavage and for the first time in a long time Eve truly  wants to murder someone. It’s a real fucking travesty that she can barely stand.

 

“What’s stopping me from killing you and taking the vial off your corpse.” Villanelle hisses as Eve’s vision starts to blur. She’s trying to stay tough but Eve knows her too well. Her agitation bleeds into her fury.

 

“Simple sweetheart. It’s precise dosage. Too much? She goes into anaphylactic shock. Too little? She dies anyways. Only _slower_.” Eve blinks frantically scanning the rapidly dimming crowd for Hannibal and Will.

 

“We’ll go back to my suite.” Villanelle’s voice is high pitched and fast paced. She’s not even trying to hide her hysteria.

 

“That sounds amazing.” He smirks. The last thing Eve remembers before passing out  is being carried past a security guard. The stranger and Villanelle supporting her between them Iike a twisted role reversal of the first murder in Budapest.

 

When she comes to Eve hears the voices before she can open her eyes.

 

“I’ve always been fascinated by women that kill.” The stranger is saying. “The women I work with are broken things. Some of them have sharp edges. But they can only make you bleed if they dig deep enough. You’re pure jagged glass Oksana. Too sharp to touch. It makes it all the more wonderful that I can change that.” He purrs.

 

Eve opens her eyes and sees his fingers twirling through Villanelle’s hair. His hand slipping underneath the strap of Villanelle’s dress. She tries to scream but no sound comes out. Tries to move but her body is unresponsive. She slowly realizes she’ll have to watch this man force himself on the woman she loves. All because she was stupid enough to accept a drink from a stranger. Eve wonders if god is punishing her. For daring to believe she could build a life with Villanelle at her side. A single tear rolls down her cheek.

 

Villanelle is exceptionally strong. She could snap the strangers neck in a matter of moments or beat his face in with her bare hands until nothing recognizable remains. But she won’t. Because there is one person she fears. One person she feels fear for. And that is Eve. Villanelle will sacrifice herself on the off chance that this stranger will keep his word. She will do it willingly and a thousand times over. Villanelle is stiff under his touch as his lips graze her collarbone. There is a knock on the door and the sound of a key turning in the lock.

 

“Eve, Villanelle? We are home. Cover yourselves if necessary.” Hannibal warns through the door. The man freezes slowly pulling Villanelle across his lap.

 

Will steps inside, his husband close behind. She watches them take in the situation. Eve lying motionless on the couch Villanelle across the mans lap, knife she had mocked held to her throat.

 

“No one move!” The stranger snaps.

 

“Eve are you alright?” Will rushed to her kneeling next to her to feel for a pulse as Hannibal walks closer to Villanelle.

 

“Hey! I said nobody move!” The man whines seeming vaguely hurt neither man bothered to listen.

 

“Just what do you think you are doing?” Hannibal cocks his head curiously and stares at the stranger.

 

“Wait a second.” His eyes light up. “You’re the blokes from the restaurant who wouldn’t stop looking at me!”

 

“Hannibal back off!” Villanelle hisses. “He’s drugged Eve and we need him to tell us the antidote.”

 

“ _Hannibal_ _the cannibal.”_  The stranger chuckles. “I knew you looked familiar. Can’t exactly blame me for not recognizing you at first. I’m not interested in men and you are getting a bit old.”

 

“I assure you he’s still capable of putting you in the ground.” Will says darkly.

 

“And that nickname is rather childish. I don’t like to hear it.” Hannibal adds.

 

“Three major league killers in one place!” He whistles. “What is this! The serial killer expanded universe? And I’m sure he is Mr. Graham. Only I’m the only one who knows the antidote! It’s a special concoction that I invented myself. He smirks. “Medical expertise won’t help the good doctor a bit. Not to worry. I’ll give it to you. As soon as I finish my business with Oksana.”

 

“Very well. We’ll have to beat it out of you then.” Hannibal sighs. The stranger brings his lips to Villanelle and she bites _hard_. He howls and she stands spitting a chunk of soft flesh unto the hardwood floor.

 

“What the fuck!” He shrieks clutching at his mouth.

 

“It’s just. That seems like a much better idea.” Villanelle smirks as he shakily climbs to his feet. “And for the record my name is Villanelle.” She kicks him square in the chest with one three inch stiletto and he stumbles backwards very nearly falling straight into Hannibal who has made his way behind him. He turns and stabs his pocket knife straight into Hannibal's shoulder and the older man looks down at the blade embedded in him completely nfazed.

 

“Is that a letter opener?” Hannibal wonders aloud.

 

“That’s what I said!” Villanelle frowns as she and Will stand next to Hannibal each resting a head on the taller man’s shoulder. Standing shaking and weaponless it's the first time the stranfer looks truly frightened.

 

“Hold still dear.” Will deadpans as he pulls the bloody knife from his husbands shoulder.

 

“Villanelle go get Eve the ipecac syrup from my suitcase. Inducing vomiting may not completely remove the poison but it’s a proactive start. Will and I will deal with this arse. Consider it an early wedding present.” Hannibal instructs Villanelle.

 

Villanelle nods and sprints off to the loft kicking off her shoes as she runs. Eve watches Hannibal and Will circle the man for a moment  before moving in towards him.

 

“Wait! It’s only rohypnol! I swear to god! She can sleep it off! I was bluffing!” At this point the man is all but hyperventilating.

 

“Ah but you’ve been so terrible to my dear friends! I assume you’ve used the same ruse with a number of your other victims.” Hannibal tsks.

 

“It’s appreciated that you told us so quickly.” Will continues. “But there’s no way you’re walking out of this alive.”

 

They move together in perfect synchronization. A quiet dance punctuated only by the grunts of the man beneath them as blows land. For the first time Eve thinks she understands the attraction of killing as a pair. In the end he is pressed to the sliding glass doors to the balcony overlooking the back of the ship arms scrambling for purchase and finding none. Wills elbow is in the small of his back and Hannibal holds the knife against his throat.

 

“This knife is non threatening when held in your hands. But you will quickly find out it can be used to fit our purposes. In a skilled hand a blade such as this one will be more than adequate. He holds it up to the light so the stranger can catch a final glimpse. “I have found that when cutting a throat  by slashing deep the entire way across, you'll get the dark flowing jugular blood, then the gurgling of the trachea releasing its air and finally, the arterial spray of the carotid. If, of course the throat's owner struggles before the blade makes it all the way across, you may get a combination of the three. But you will not have the chance to struggle.” Hannibal smiles as Will uses his free arm to hold the man’s head in place. After it is done he slumps to the floor leaving a trail of blood on the glass and a spray to fall across the white carpeting.

 

By this time Villanelle is on the floor cradling Eve’s head in her lap. Hannibal flops down on the couch blood from his shoulder wound smearing unto the cushions. Will throws himself on top of him and they lay together quietly until Hannibal makes up his mind to break the silence.

 

“Serial killer expanded universe.” He mocks. “What a strange little man.” The motionless lump of the stranger on the floor has all but stopped his gurgling. “We are sorry to have left you two. I all but dragged Will off to explain the situation and give our suite number to the women from dinner last night. We felt uneasy and decided to come back to check on you two.”

 

“Good thing we did”  Will pulls a crumpled up business card from his jacket pocket. “I’ll call Esther for some carpet cleaner.”

 

“Mm you do that.” Hannibal yawns. “I need a long soak in the jacuzzi.”

 

Eve looks up at the still worried face of her fiancé and slowly lifts a hand up to rub at a fleck of ruined mascara. Villanelle laughs and the world fades to black.

 

Eve wakes in the mid afternoon swaddled in blankets with Villanelle sitting in the armchair by her side.

 

“The girls came by this morning.” Villanelle tells her softly. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

 

“Mostly?” Eve groans.

 

“I gave them some of our money and most of our clothes. We were roughly the same size” She explains, sounding a little guilty. Eve is flabbergasted.

 

“You gave someone aid? Without financial compensation.”

 

“That man hurt you.” Villanelle whispers. “I’d do anything to insult him. Even postmortem. You should come downstairs and see what we’ve constructed. It’s quite a humiliating display.” She laughs. Eve kisses her quickly and Villanelle helps her to her unsteady feet.

 

The stranger is sitting in almost exactly the place he’d died in, russet stained carpet still visible. He’s wearing only a too small pair of hideous mustard yellow boxers with a toilet cleaner wand shoved down his throat. Those choices were definitely Villanelle’s. He has been posed with his hands outstretched one offering a Shirley Temple, the other holding a monogrammed piece of stationary. The missing chunk from his stomach also screams Hannibal and Will. In the tennis courts below the window two middle aged couples are busy playing a competitive game.

 

“Won’t they notice the body?” Eve asks Hannibal who is neatly stacking the unused bottles of cleaning supplies Esther must have brought while she slept.

 

“Eventually. Though most people don’t tend to look up.” He answers.“I wasn’t able to remove all of the stains from the carpet so I’ve decided to leave them. How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine.” She smiles weakly turning away from the body. “A little groggy.”

 

“Fresh air will help.” Will hugs her from behind and she jumps a little at the contact before relaxing into it.

 

“Safest person on the ship huh?” She teases.

 

“I’m just glad you’re alright.” He says dead serious.

 

“Needless to say we will be cutting the cruise short in Sydney.” Hannibal frowns. “And I so wanted to see the barrier reef! I suppose the tourist industry is killing it anyways.”

 

Will leaves Eve to Villanelle who caresses her face and leads her to the couch, making sure to steer clear of the bloodstain Hannibal left.

 

“Do you think we have time to see the Opera?” Will swings an arm around his husbands shoulder and leans into him.

 

“Oh most definitely.” Hannibal answers.

 

_Team up murder on the high seas!_

 

 _The body of Dan Strass was discovered in the Lindeza suite aboard the Jóia_ _de Portugal after it docked in Sydney four days ago. The 37 year old was wanted in Britain for two counts of sexual assault and one of attempted murder in the second degree. Although the photos pictured below are far from tattlecrime exclusive the shocking confirmations found within them make it a worthwhile topic all the same. Mr. Strass’ body was found near nude and embarrassingly posed. These indignities include a missing kidney [one trademark trophy of the Chesapeake Ripper] a toilet wand shoved down his throat. [A flair first noticed in Oksana Astankovas first unpaid kill in the suburbs outside of London] And a half bitten off lower lip. [Still missing] In his outstretched hands he bore two gifts for authorities. One Shirley Temple oversaturated with rohypnol, a date rape drug [although it is worth mentioning that no traces of the substance were found in his system] and a “LG” monogrammed note that read simply. “Our sincerest apologies for the stains. Though you should be more thorough in your security screenings” The bloodstains the note refers to being found on both the suites couch and carpet. Although results from the blood have not yet been officially released  the suites personal attendant Esther Franco has positively identified the two couples staying in the suite as Eve Polastri, Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, and Oksana Astonkova. The motivation for the crime and for the reasons of any of the four being on the cruise at all is still unclear. Two unidentified witnesses have come forward to report claims of Strass’ involvement in human trafficking. Eager to update as more news of this newfound couples murder retreat emerges!_

 

_-Freddie Lounds_

_Tatttlecrime.com_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated. :)))
> 
> Translations in order of appearance 
> 
> “É uma bela manhã Lisette!” -It’s a beautiful morning Lisette 
> 
> “Sim! Venha e visite a loja mais tarde!”  
> -Yes come and visit the shop later 
> 
> “Tvoy zhenikh do sikh por ne ochen' lyubit menya.” -I don’t think your fiancé likes me all that much.
> 
> Šios moterys atrodo serga. ar ne?” “seksualinės prekybos aukomis?  
> -Those women aren’t well, right? Human trafficking victims?
> 
> “Mylimasis” -love dearest etc.
> 
>  
> 
> “Tout simplement magnifique” -Simply beautiful
> 
>  
> 
> If I do a third crossover it will be about Eve and Villanelle’s wedding and I’ll use Villanelle and Hannibal’s perspectives [finally]


End file.
